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TALES.. 


IN 

TAPA... 
. . 1909 . . 



ELEANOR 

RIVENBURGH 


^:sf 

4>o/ 




COPTRICHT 1909 BY 
ELEANOR RIVEN BURGH 


HONOLULU. HAWAII 

PARADISE OF THE PACIFIC PUBLISHERS AND PRINTERS 

1909 






©CI.A265217 


DEDICATION 


my dear mother and father, with whom my happy 
childhood was spent in these sunny islands, 
this liitle book is dedicated. 



OMETIMES, in the soft stillness of the night 
I dream of thee; I touch thy tropic flowers; 
Pausing alone, in palm-protected bowers 
I feel the tremor of a rare delight. 

Thy children pass with smiles, and garlands bright; 
While ever and anon through sunny hours 
Thy velvet breasts are bathed in rainbow showers. 
Adding but to thy beauty in their flight. 

And ere a crimson sunset fades, on high 
Rises a crystal moon beyond the sea 
Charging with silver all thy living streams. 

Let me not waken, on my lips a sigh, 

Doubting thou art a sweet reality. 

Be thou for aye the island of my dreams! 





Tn the shadow of a giant eocoanut tree. 






LEIALOHA 


I 



N THE shadow of a 
giant cocoanut tree 
she stands, leaning 
against the dumb com- 
panion of her sorrow, 
while the ardent trop- 
ic sun floods the heav- 
ing bosom of the sea. 
In her eyes broods the 
shadow of an unutter- 
able woe; her tremulous mouth expresses infinite 
longing; in her heart hope struggles with despair. 

Her face, once beautiful, now faded, is a famil- 
iar one about Honolulu, and the old-timers have 
long since ceased to be attracted by her appear- 
ance. Day after day at the same hour Leialoha 
may be seen, — a pitiful, solitary figure leaning 
against the old tree, waiting. A dove, heavenly 
messenger, seeks to console her. It alights near 
her feet and silently ventures toward her. 

‘‘Say, is he coming? Will he be here soon?’’ 

Her soft native accents thrill with a faint joy, 
but as the weary hours pass, and the long shadows 
of the neighboring palms measure themselves over 
the yellow sands, despair succeeds hope. 

“Again too late, top late!” she murmurs, and 
sinks down on the grass holding her throbbing 



5 


TALES IN TAPA 


temples in her hands; the fountain of her tears is 
long since dry. The dove timidly hurries by and 
with a pathetic smile she watches it crouch, pre- 
paring to depart. 

“You will remind him?^’ she cries, eagerly. 
“Go, then, and tell him he promised to meet me 
here.” 

Freighted with a kiss from her slender fingers, 
the bird soars high into the air and sails away. 

Sadly I watched her, the faded remnants of a 
gaudy holoku sagging about her ankles, her black 
uncovered hair falling free about her stooping 
shoulders. I did not then know that this human 
derelict, this poor, deserted wreck, was once as 
beautiful as a tropic sunset, that her starlike eyes 
were iridescent with the joy of youth and happi- 
ness, that her heart once radiated with the sweet- 
est and most pitiful romance I had ever heard. It 
was from a lei-woman that I learned her story, 
who one day told me as we stood on the wharf, my 
eyes resting on the pathetic figure that had passed. 

When Leialoha was a child her father died, 
leaving her to the sole care of her sorrowing, dark- 
eyed mother. Lei-making is slow and weary work, 
yet early and late the patient mother toiled, while 
the happy child played among the butterfiies in 
their Nuuanu Valley home. The various plants 
growing around their cottage flourished under her 
gentle care, seeming to return in silent gratitude 
sweet and delicate perfume, and making the home- 
coming of the worn-out mother an oasis in her life 
of drudgery. 

But the long, hard rains of winter, and sitting 
on the sidewalk all day weaving leis proved too 
great a hardship for the heart-broken woman. 


I 



‘'Sitting on the sidewalk 
weaving leis. ” 


all day 




LEI ALOE A 


7 


whose frail body was not equal to the task, and 
finally it became necessary to send Leialoba ont to 
face what sbe had striven to avert. So the child, 
now blossoming into girlhood, took her mother ^s 
place among the lei-sellers of the streets. 

Time passed. With anxious eyes the fading 
mother saw the increasing beauty of the girl, and 
one sad day, just as the golden sun was tipping the 
hills with a dying glow, she drew Leialoha to her 
bosom, and, calling down the blessing of the Great 
Akua and the Aliis who had gone before, she 
feebly laid bare her aching heart. 

‘‘My child, take heed and hearken unto me. 
Once I was young and beautiful as thou, and inno- 
cent. But a haole came into my life and ruined it. 
Leialoha!^’ she cried, rousing herself while her 
eyes blazed as fire, “He ruined my life! He threw 
my love aside! He — laughed at me! Beware, my 
child, and listen to my words. Marry a true 
Hawaiian; that is best for such as we, and beware 
of the heartless malihini!’’ 

She ended with averted face, and murmuring 
a short but broken prayer. 

“I will have no one, only my dear mother,’’ 
sobbed the girl, and, falling on her knees, Leialoha 
threw her arms about her mother, with loving 
words and gentle ministrations, trying to revive 
her. But it was too late, and when she rose from 
that bed of sorrow Leialoha found herself alone 
in the world. 

Youth is kind, and the months gradually 
healed her afflicted heart. Leialoha, selling her 
flowers, slowly learned to be happy, humming 
sweet little native airs as she weaved the scented 
blooms. Her companions began to observe a devel- 


8 


TALES IN TAPA 


opment of her character, the unfolding of a strange 
depth of feeling hitherto undivined. The foolish 
trivialities so dear to the feminine Hawaiian heart, 
in Leialoha were lacking. She was imbued with a 
marked sense of honor and justice, no matter at 
what disadvantage to herself. She developed a 
womanliness seldom met with in the people of her 
class, and in consequence she became an object of 
mild ridicule to those who inwardly admired her 
demeanor. 

Leialoha ’s beauty was remarkable, and 
attracted the admiring glance of every stranger, 
but, dutifully remembering her mother’s injunc- 
tion, she scarcely raised her eyes to the faces of 
the purchasers who were good enough to buy her 
leis. 

So one by one the warm days passed by while 
the flower-girl built air castles, dreaming many a 
golden dream as she twined creamy plumarias or 
scarlet carnations with green maile into loops of 
sweetness. 

And then Eoy came. 

The girl could not in any way connect her 
promise to her mother with Eoy, try as she might. 
It was all so easy, so natural, so harmless, as she 
thought. She wondered if there had ever been a 
time when she had not loved Eoy, and, if so, what 
could it have been like. 

She found herself thinking of him as her nim- 
ble fingers worked, bending over her flowers to 
conceal her blushes in their fragrant masses when- 
ever joking mention was made of him by her 
fellow-workers. She found herself counting the 
hours for him to call for her in a certain store 
after her basket was packed, to take her far up the 



^SShe twined green maile into loops of sweetness.” 






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LEI ALOHA 


9 


valley to her home, whence they would walk 
among far stretches of wild guava bushes to a 
mound in the distance, there to sit together and, 
looking out to sea and far, far down to the tops of 
buildings and shipping, inhale rare warm breaths 
of ginger wafted by the mountain breeze. 

One night following their usual meeting Lei- 
aloha kneeling in prayer sobbed silently, remem- 
bering her mother. Had her sacred promise, after 
all, been kept? True, Roy was a haole, but the 
thought, ominous as it was, seemed overshadowed 
by the intensity of her devotion to him. So, silent, 
she knelt in semi-prayer. She could not tell 
whether in secret joy or regret she whispered to 
her spirit-mother that he was soon to marry her. 
That this was so she knew, for had he not parted 
from her that night in the happy thought that 
tomorrow at an appointed time she would meet 
him at a quiet nook of Waikiki, where he would 
slip upon her finger the true token of his love? 
His passionate words of devotion thrilled her with 
delight; her last thought was of him as she fell 
asleep. 

Then Leialoha waited. Day after day passed. 
Condolences were whispered to and fro among the 
lei-sellers, and Myra, the thin girl, who seemed 
to think a good deal of Leialoha, told her sadly 
that one day she had seen Roy — it must have been 
the very day he had planned for their meeting — 
down on the wharf when the Alameda went away, 
all covered with leis, and stooping and laughing as 
a young haole girl tied another one around his 
neck; a very pretty lei it was, too, — in fact the 
longest of' them all, which she had just bought 
from Myra. 


10 


TALES'^ IN TAPA 


1 pictured the man in his well-appointed home 
who perhaps never since then has ^ven a thought 
to the pretty lei-girl of Hawaii, while Leialoha — 
She leans against the old tree waiting! 




TWIUGHT ON A PLANTATION 



EANING upon a bridge-rail dreaming, I 


Beheld the beauty of a dying day; 

A gold- and salmon-tinted evening sky. 

The clear-cut lines of mountains far away 
A cane field’s rustling — familiar sound, — 

The quiet river wending to the sea, 

A faint night-scent of lilies all around. 
While a great peace descended unto me. 



I M . | „ | 1,1 I 

THE WIDOW McBRYDE 

^ 

The Story of a Hawaiian Plantation 

S MAY STONE and Mr. 
Arnold were keeping 
company, everybody 
knew it. They were 
not formally engaged, 
but everybody agreed 
they would be just as 
soon as Mr. Arnold 
formally proposed, and 
the word ‘‘everybody^’ 
was one to be relied 
upon. It was also known that Miss Stone felt 
very sure of Mr. Arnold, and realized that her 
manifold charms exerted upon him a pleasing and 
most desired effect. She had often insisted in a 
diplomatic way on directing his attention at times 
to others less fortunate, as she put it to him, — less 
attractive, she told herself, — ^for the double pur- 
pose of being unselfish and confirming a contrast 
when again they met. 

‘‘Would you care very much,’’ he asked her 
one night as they sat together on the screened 
lanai under a dickering hanging-lamp, “if I 
devoted my time to others instead of spending 
every evening with you? Suppose there were 
other girls here, real pretty ones, you wouldn’t 



11 


12 


TALES IN TAPA 


mind a bit if I took them out, would jouV^ 

She winced at the suggestion and barely con- 
cealed it, but, throwing back her head, carelessly 
fanned herself. 

‘‘Well, the best proof of that, George,’’ she 
forced herseK into replying, “is to try it and 
see. ’ ’ 

She laughed a little, but only at the thought of 
the others; they were so plain, so uninteresting. 

Her defiant remark was all but forgotten when 
a rumor began to circulate that a mystery was 
soon to arrive in their midst, — a feminine mys- 
tery, at that, — and the thought suddenly flashed 
upon her that it would be terrible indeed if her 
threat should be realized. 

So it came about that, thrilling with anticipa- 
tion and sitting on its haunches, as it were, the 
community awaited a sight of the new arrival. 
When female Waialua heard of the advent of Mrs. 
McBryde to the plantation it sniffed; when the 
female noses of Waialua, thrust forward to witness 
her arrival, scented the fact that Mrs. McBryde 
was young, fair of face, and eligible, they sniffed; 
and when the report was created that Mrs. 
McBryde, a widow, was not averse to a little 
coquetry now and then, it was quite a breezy day 
in those parts. 

For there were some very severe social laws 
among the gentle portion of the community which 
were enforced at great peril, and the most rigid 
of these was that the woman who ventured within 
their gates must leave all beauty behind. She 
might be young if she wished to be, but attract- 
ive — well, she remained so at her own risk, for the 
horror of the plantation was a new coquette; there 


THE WIDOW McBRYDE 


IS 


was a sufficiency of the old ones for that. So the 
Widow McBryde, who was young and fascinating, 
became a ^ Apiece de resistance’’ of the gossip- 
mongers. 

‘‘Have you seen her yet, Mrs. Wilson?” 
inquired May Stone. She lay in a steamer chair, 
drying her hair. “I have heard she is rather 
pretty,” — this with a touch of raillery. “Do you 
think so?” 

Now Mrs. Wilson, who did not think so, not 
wishing to be rudely thrust from the plum cakes 
and occasional custard puddings of her young 
friend, hesitated. 

“Well,” she returned at length, with a look of 
distress, “I don’t think she is; I wouldn’t call her 
very good-looking though she is pretty stylish, 
and they say she is very taking with the men.” 
A look of displeasure overspread the other’s face. 

“And the single men, ’ ’ hinted Mrs. Wilson. ‘ ‘ I 
suppose will be just daffiy over her ! ’ ’ 

At this point the girl’s hair was viciously 
shaken and a deadly pause ensued. Then Mrs. 
Wilson thought she saw a gleaming eye peering 
out at her between the wet tresses. 

“Has Mr. Arnold met her yet?” 

The question was directly put and brooked no 
equivocation. It was a luscious moment for the 
visitor. Eealizing her importance, she mysteri- 
ously drew up her chair. “You won’t let this go 
any further, will you?” she began in a flutter, “but 
I heard on good authority that he not only has met 
her, but that he takes her out. ’ ’ 

This fact was so interesting, alarming, and 
worthy of investigation, that later in the afternoon 
the pair, one in a shirtwaist and skirt, the other 


u 


TALES IN TAPA 


airy and cool in a big, loose holoku, called upon 
Mrs. McBryde. 

She greeted them cordially, extending her 
hand. 

‘‘Aloha,^' she said in welcome, ‘‘for that is 
your word, is it not? I am gratefully pleased that 
you have come to see me.’’ 

The visitors’ eyes traveled slowly along the 
contour of the newcomer’s gown of dainty lawn, 
perfectly fitting her fashionable figure, then the 
silence demanding an answer. May Stone boldly 
ventured on the import of her call. 

“We are always very glad to see people from 
the States, but the gentlemen here will appreciate 
you even more, I guess, than we. They seldom see 
anyone as attractive as you.” 

She had not meant to be friendly at the begin- 
ning, but in spite of what she had heard and the 
hallucinations of her own vivid imagination, she 
could not but be drawn to this woman by her mag- 
netic charm of manner, and felt herself respond- 
ing to her hostess’s alluring smile. 

“I consider it most charming of you to pay me 
such a pretty compliment,” was the response, 
“and I think, if you will pardon me for saying it, 
that Waialua is not the place for diplomats. You 
should live in Washington, my dear; that’s the 
city for you.” 

The girl blushed slightly. She had not 
expected this. 

“I have met very few people here so far,” con- 
tinued the hostess. “My address book contains 
but one wee small name, and that is Mr. Arnold. 
I fear I should be lonely were it not for him, but 


THE WIDOW McBRYDE 


15 


he is my salvation. Of course,’^ she broke in 
abruptly, ‘‘of course you both know Mr. Arnold 

Yes, Miss Stone and Mrs. Wilson were 
acquainted with Mr. Arnold. They both thought 
him very pleasant. 

“Indeed he is!” averred the stranger warmly, 
a mischievous smile playing about the comers of 
her mouth. “And so thoughtful, placing his sad- 
dle-horse at my disposal, and sending his Jap boy 
every day with the cutest notes to enquire as to 
my wants. I am very happy here so far, and am 
really fond of Mr. Arnold.” 

That settled it. War was immediately pro- 
claimed by Mrs. Wilson and the ladies of her fol- 
lowing upon the Widow McBryde, yet they real- 
ized that as far as competition was concerned May 
Stone stood slightly at a disadvantage. They did 
not miss the fact that the widow was shapely and 
knew how to put on her clothes; their eager eyes 
daily absorbed her soft, fine skin, the appealing 
little tendrils of dark hair which hung on either 
side of eyes as deeply blue as the sea depths, and 
the refined and quiet manners of the woman. The 
island girl herself felt that although she was 
younger, more childlike and innocent, it seemed to 
her that the very experience of the widow, the 
style and finish gained in a foreign land but added 
to the charm which she felt in herself was sadly 
lacking. 

What wonder then after all, thought she, that 
the few men who lived near her cottage began to 
primp a little and stand by their gates or doorways 
whenever “a certain party,” as she was affection- 
ately dubbed by the wives, daughters or sisters of 
said men, was expected to pass that way. 


16 


TALES IN TAPA 


Many times she did pass, just altogether too 
often to be necessary, was the opinion of some. 
At times it was to enter the big noisy mill, where 
numbers of Japanese workmen turned out tons 
upon tons of sugar while she slept. Sometimes for 
a stroll through cane-fields at break of day, large 
dew-drops still clinging to the graceful blades, 
resembling lilies-of-the-valley, up to a knoll, 
whence she looked down on vast areas of rustling 
green fields that stretched from the mountains to 
the sea. Again, it would be snap-shots of those 
queer little creatures who in reality are women, 
but who might be anything, garbed in blue gaiters 
bound round the ankles, along with a short, knee- 
length skirt, loose blouse, and high white turban 
extending toward the skies with its absurd sailor 
hat perched upon the top. 

But on Sundays she invariably drove with Mr. 
Arnold in his stylish rig, her chiffon sunshade flut- 
tering about her face as persistently as her smiles. 
They went to Haleiwa, the fashionable hotel, 
about two miles along the coast, and, seating 
themselves in a quiet nook on the wide, cool lanai 
whence a glorious view spread before them, they 
would read, chat, sip lemonades (the ladies of 
Waialua would solemnly depose it wasn’t lemon- 
ade, though,) and perhaps, as Jack Harvey told 
about seeing them, stroll hand in hand like chil- 
dren to the quaint rustic bridge to watch the quiet 
river and its fishing-boats till dinner-time. 

After dining in a corner of the lanai at one of 
the nasturtium-bedecked tables, with covers for 
two, they would drive leisurely home in the moon- 
light through cane-fields with glorious shadowy 


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BiMii 


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They went to Haleiwa. 














\ 


THE WIDOW McBRYDE 


17 


moimtaiiis looming purple before them, and the 
roar of the sea behind. 

“I cannot understand,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Brown, with a toss of her head, and laying stress 
on each individual word, her mouth snapping after 
it like a trap, ‘‘I simply cannot understand why 
that McBryde woman ever came to this place.” 

‘‘It is queer, isn’t it,” assented Mrs. Wilson, 
who always spoke in a quick, nervous way, as 
though she feared discovery before completing her 
sentence. “If she had come to teach the Jap chil- 
dren at the government school, why, even that 
would be some excuse, but she doesn’t do a thing 
but flaunt good clothes at us. I do believe,” she 
added, glancing about and keeping an artificial 
smile ready in case the widow should appear, “do 
you know, I do believe she has just come here to 
make an impression on Mr. Arnold!” 

It was at one of the frequent gatherings of the 
sort that had come in vogue to decide upon the 
proper course to pursue in their attitude to the 
widow. In the end it was resolved to be cynically 
agreeable whenever occasion demanded they 
should come in contact with her, but in order to 
restrict such occasions to as few as possible, she 
must be ignored in all their social functions. 

“Do you think she will be invited to Miss 
Stone’s pink tea?” enquired “Ma” Eeynolds, 
plump and good-natured, who, assuming a blase 
attitude, as though that which came so rarely were 
a frequent occurrence in Waialua, continued: 

“I am not sure whether I shall go or not. My 
flor-de-lees dress is in the wash this week, and my 
Portuguese girl is so busy” — a slight lifting of the 
eyebrows — “I can’t have another one made in 


18 


TALES IN TAPA 


time. But if I don^t go you must all be sure and 
tell me what the Widow wears. 

‘‘Now, Ma Eeynolds,^^ essayed Mrs. Wilson, 
with a cackling laugh, “don’t you dare think for 
a minute you’re not going, and just on account of 
that dress. Now what’s the matter with your 
holoku?” 

“Which one*?” asked Mrs. Eeynolds. 

‘ ‘ Why, the white one with the blue anchors all 
over it. It’s real pretty, and I think it’s very 
becoming to your special type of beauty. You 
don’t need to fear any rivalry,” she chirped, 
“because I heard from a very reliable source, 
though I don’t care to mention any names, that 
the Widow is not invited.” 

“Well, I know positively,” — thus the lady 
with the trap, — “that she’ll get left if she’s 
expecting any invitation to my silver wedding. 
Now you can just take that from me. ’ ’ 

It was true. Mrs. McBryde was the recipient 
of no card to where Mesdames Eeynolds and Wil- 
son, attired in holokus, in company with May 
Stone, in a simple dimity dress, assembled to do 
honor to the event, nor did she even seem aware 
of it as she rode by on the proffered horse. 

The subject which had aroused the keen inter- 
est of the plantation ladies, and the suppression 
of which caused them much uneasiness, was care- 
fully avoided that afternoon till after the girl had 
taken her leave, but she had not closed the gate 
ere their feeling found vent. 

“I think it’s just a shame,” snapped Mrs. 
Brown as, drawing aside the curtain, she watched 
the retreating figure of the village belle, “the way' 
George Arnold has treated that girl! He ought 


TEE WIDOW McBRYDE 


19 


to be ashamed of himself, keeping company with 
her straight now for over a year, and just because 
a Merry Widda flaunts her few sached (with the 
accent on the last syllable) clothes at him, for him 
to be shining up to her, — think is an outrage!^’ 

‘‘Well, now,’^ said Mrs. Wilson, “the strangest 
part of it to me is that he’s just as nice to her as 
ever, and she ’s just as nice to the Widow as he is 
to her. It’s a ring within a ring, and I can’t 
understand head nor tail of it.” 

At this point a strong odor of cabbage floated 
through the open door and Mr. Brown arose as 
an indication that their presence was no longer 
desired. 

“Guess Jim ’ll be home in a minute, as my din- 
ner is about ready. Glad you came,” she added as 
Ma Eeynolds reluctantly made an effort to rise. 
“I’d like to ask you to stay and eat with us but I 
don ’t prepare very much for just Jim and me. ’ ’ 

“Yes, the two old hens came,” replied Mrs. 
Brown in answer to her husband’s inquiry, “and 
Ma Eeynolds is getting so fat,” she added as she 
spread the viands before him, “that I just hate to 
ask her to come and see me any more. And as for 
Mrs. Wilson, she hasn’t got a good word to say 
for anybody!” 

When the news came that George Arnold was 
about to issue invitations for a dance at Haleiwa in 
honor of Mrs. McBryde of Washington, D. C., 
great excitement prevailed. Portuguese sewing- 
women were in great demand and many and gor- 
geously ruffled were the pink, green and blue 
dresses prepared for the event. 

At length, after two weeks of a tension that 
bordered upon delirium, the fateful night arrived 


20 


TALES IN TAPA 

and the whole population drove over in rickety 
hacks to a scene of beauty and revelation. J apan- 
ese lanterns festooned in fantastic designs cast 
upon the river a pink glow. Small sampans flut- 
tering with pennants and shaded lights, canoes in 
the form of floating banks of flowers, headed by a 
launch to which they were attached by scarlet rib- 
bons and whence, from its flag-draped precincts, 
floated the strains of Hawaiian music, made an 
aquarian procession that awed even the unbeliev- 
ers. 

“Always told you he’d come out ahead on those 
sugar stocks,” proudly asserted Jim Brown. 

“Yes, and I always told you that May Stone 
never made half enough effort to get him,” 
snapped his wife. 

And then a strange thing happened. Of course 
they had expected that George Arnold would 
reveal the reason of his mysterious behavior, that 
now here, in the presence of the populace, he would 
announce his betrothal to her in whose honor he 
had taken upon himself to act as host to the most 
stupendous affair in which Waialua’s society had 
ever participated. But when he arose at supper 
and, holding high his glass of champagne, sug- 
gested a toast to May Stone, the sweetest, most 
lovable, little girl in the whole world, whom he 
soon hoped to call his wife, curiosity was at the 
bursting point. 

But the mystery was solved, however, when the 
couple were driving home. 

“Yes, I love her very much,” said the girl 
gently, “and we are the best of friends. At first I 
was afraid you would marry her, and then I was 
afraid that you wouldn’t. She is so far superior to 



“ . . . and watched the quiet river and its fishing 
boats till dinner-time.” 



THE WIDOW McBRYDE 


me in every way, and as yon are going back to 
your borne in Washington, just think how proud 
you would be of her. ’ ’ 

am proud of her,’’ replied the man, “as a 
sister. ’ ’ 

“So you mean that she has accepted you in 
that capacity?” She raised her dark eyes to his 
innocently as she asked the childish question, and 
as he glanced at her, in the moonlight, he pressed 
her hand in his. 

“A man may not marry his sister, dear,” he 
said very gently. 

“His sister?” exclaimed the girl, mystified. 
“Why, what has his sister don’t under- 

stand.” 

He settled himself comfortably back and, toss- 
ing aside his cigar, placed his arm around her. 

“Will you let me tell you a little story?” he 
said. ‘ ‘ Once upon a time there were a young lady 
and a young man. ’ ’ 

“Yes.” 

“ ‘Would you care?’ asked the man. 

“Said the girl, ‘Try it and see.’ ” 

A slight flush overspread her face, but he did 
not observe it. 

“About this time a letter came from the man’s 
sister, who was a writer. She wanted to come to 
the islands for a trip and to gather material for 
her work. The brother wrote back as follows: 
‘Dear Helen — Come along. There’s a nice little 
cottage near me that you can occupy, and I will 
look out for your wants. Leave the two children 
with Ben and, remember, you’re a widow. Do 
this for your loving brother, George.’ ” 

There was a pause. 


TALES IN TAPA 


‘^And now let me tell you, little girl,’’ he said,^ 
^‘that is, if you haven’t drawn your own conclu- 
sion, that the young man is I, the young lady you, 
and my sister the ‘Widow’ McBryde.” 

He took her left hand and, holding her close to 
him, slipped on her fourth finger a solitaire, whose 
brilliant gleams shot sparks of fire in the semi- 
darkness. 

“But there was another reason, dear,” he mur- 
mured, “why I wrote my sister to come.” 

The girl was silent. It was hard to understand, 
and seemed too good to be true. 

‘ ‘ Yes ? ’ ’ she asked, vaguely. ‘ ‘ And that was 1 ’ ’ 

“To meet you,” he said, as he took her in his 
arms. 




EBB-TIDE 

D usk, bearing silent shadows of the night, 

Hovers ghostlike o’er with arms outspread; 
Apollo from his chariot of light 

Gazing as if to stay, departs instead. 

Laughing upon the darkness he forsook; 

And rosy-tinged nature, fading now. 

Leaves this world with a loving, ling’ring look. 
And one bright kiss of gold upon its brow. 

Then silver linings suddenly break through 

And tip yon storm clouds frowning threat’ningly; 
Ah! moonlight ever old yet ever new, 

I tremble with the moment’s ecstacy. 



j 


THE HEART OF NONA 


1 


EACE unfathomable abound- 
ed everywhere. Above 
were dense, overhanging 
branches o f interlacing 
trees, the sleeping butter- 
flies, the mountains, the 
stars, the pale moon; be- 
neath, the sea, lapping on 
the rough stones. 

Gaunt and worn, from a 
life already nearing the 
threshold of its close, she 
made her way blindly to the ancient tombs of the 
fathers of her race. 

From afar came the tapping of kava stones, 
where Sosimo, the chief, and Lieutenant Watson 
sat drinking the unctions beverages and listening 
to the weird singing of the lithe Samoan girls; all 
round throbbed the incessant rhythm of the 
sicardi, enhancing the night’s quiet; once, a soft, 
seductive ripple of laughter floated out from a 
secluded hut amid the trees, to die away into obliv- 
ion, leaving peace supreme. 

Hurriedly, clandestinely, as though fearing 
detection even in that remote spot, Nona crept, her 
thin fingers nervously passing through strands of 

23 



TALES IN TAPA 


her straggling hair, or clutching at the remnant of 
cloth which bound her frail limbs. At last, gain- 
ing the braining-stone, upon whose roughened sur- 
face, the stains of blood of long ago rested, she 
knelt, with many solemn incantations. 

^^Help me but find the way,” she mumbled in 
her native tongue. ‘ ‘ Oh, fair and beautiful spirit, 
lead the way. ’Tis not for naught thou hauntest 
me in my dreams. Help me to save her. I shall 
bide thy will.” 

And again, low, foreboding, as the sullen storm 
clouds that gather over Matautu: 

‘‘Hear me, oh, hear me, Tui Bouli, god of my 
fathers!” she muttered. “Hear me, oh, hear me, 
Tui Bouli, god of the night!” 

With a sudden burst of light, the moon’s rays 
feel upon an object which glittered at her feet. 
She stooped and touched it. It was a knife, cold 
and sharp, dropped by some passer-by, perhaps, 
but curiously in tune with the words of her 
request. So, accepting it as an omen, she buried 

it among her rags, and disappeared. 

***** 

In the hut was all festivity, for the birthday of 
the village taupo, and all the tribes of the neigh- 
boring settlements had assembled to do homage to 
Lupie, brave and beautiful, selected for daring, to 
lead her people in time of war, and for her unpar- 
alleled grace and purity. 

Sosimo, the young chief, saw naught of that 
gathering but the lovely face of Lupie, her soft, 
dark-brown hair fine as the silken cobwebs that, 
suspended from opposite trees, overhung the 
Tivoli road, smoothly parted and rolled back from 
a brow as clear as a summer sky. He saw her 



‘‘As the sullen storm-clouds that gather 
over Matautu.” 




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I ^ 




THE HEART OF NONA 


25 


eyes, mischievous, appealing, and the tiny dimples 
that at times played about her well-shaped mouth. 

But Lupie, glancing up from beneath her 
heavy brows, was oblivious of his presence as she 
slyly caught the look of admiration of the young 
officer, while she languidly pounded the dry kava- 
root between two stones upon her lap, acknowledg- 
ing his silent challenge with a smile and toss of her 
pretty head. 

‘‘Kava kuo he — e — ka,’’ sang the ‘‘eye of the 
chief in a monotone, while Lieutenant Watson, 
clapping his hands thrice, accepted the cocoanut 
shell from a bronze Hebe, and quaffed the concoc- 
toin at a gulp, spinning the empty vessel in a 
straight, unswerving course back to the girl who 
brewed it. 

Lupie ^s eyes kindled with pleasure and admira- 
tion, as the Samoans applauded approval, and she 
laughed merrily in her confusion. 

“You are not a novice in the customs of my 
people,’’ she said. 

Lieutenant Watson looked straight at the girl, 
and his eyes met hers. 

“It was to please you that I did it,” he said 
in reply. 

Sosimo heard the graceful tribute, and nodded 
his approval. It was gallant in the young officer, 
and Samoans adore gallantry. 

And then, suddenly, without previous prepara- 
tion, a number of maidens and men rose, and 
squatted in a semi-circle before the assembled 
guests. Lupie sat beside Lieutenant Watson, as 
the Samoan etiquette demanded, and they watched 
the “ siva-sivas, ” those wild gestures and songs, 
wherein a dozen graceful women and a dozen stal- 


TALES IN TAPA 


wart men, sitting cross-legged on the floor, keep 
time to the rhythm of a tattoo, swaying their half- 
naked bodies to its every phase. Now wild, exub- 
erant, passionate, it tore the very heart-strings in 
a frenzy of joy; again, softly dying, it sobbed away 
into quiet grief. 

Few there are who can hear those harmonies 
and behold the swaying of the bodies untouched^ 
and the man and the girl who sat silently drink- 
ing in the scene were not exceptions. The girPs 
parted lips, dreamy eyes, and flushed cheeks 
betrayed her emotion, and the young American 
thrilled with the ecstacy of beholding her un- 
awares. So the spell of the song fell upon them, 
and when good-night was said the man held 
Lupie ^s hand in both his own for a long, long time. 

They understood each other. 

# # # * * 

Away out in a shaded and secluded spot of 
Matautu, the rising moon lighted two figures, and 
for many nights it had lighted Lupie and the offi- 
cer there, whispering words of love. The girl was 
tall, graceful, and thrilling with the poetry of the 
land. On this night her soft silken garb fell in 
folds about her body, her supple fingers were 
jeweled with odd rings of tortoise-shell with inlays 
of silver in emblematic designs, while ear-rings of 
the same fell almost to her shoulders. They sat 
close together on the broad white beach, behind 
them clumps of fau bushes, and the quiet sea lap- 
ping at their feet. 

fear this is the last time, Ernest,’^ she said 
sadly, ^Hhat I can meet you here. Old Tai, the 
house-woman, she who guards us village maidens 


Lupie. 


■ w 
-%• 






" .'I • 






'4 


.V 



Ait r - 


THE HEART OF NONA 


by night, is growing restless to know where I am 
spending all my time. So let ns be happy tonight, 
dear, ’ ^ she broke off smiling, ‘ ‘ while we may. ’ ^ 

The man took her hand, a strange tenderness 
filling his heart. He conld not judge this child of 
nature with those of his own race. What he would 
deem boldness in them was innocence in her. 

‘ ‘ Tell me more about yourself, Lupie, ’ ’ he said. 
‘‘Where were you born, and what was your child- 
hood likeT’ 

“Oh, my dear one,’’ she answered, “till I met 
you I was happy. When I was very young, the 
good missionary and his wife who then lived here 
took me to live with them till I was a grown 
woman. They were very, very good to me, and 
I loved them as my own. I do not recollect my 
father and mother, and they never spoke of them. 
That is where I learned to speak English, and 
many other things. But when the taupo of the 
village of Tungasi died, and I was chosen by the 
tribe to take her place, I had to go, and then when 
the further honor of wedding their chief, Sosimo, 
was bestowed on me I was the happiest girl in 
Samoa. Of course you know usually taupos do 
not marry, but Sosimo was good enough to fall in 
love with me, and the chief’s word is law in these 
islands. I thought I loved Sosimo, and I was con- 
tent to resign my place as taupo to be exalted as 
his wife. But now ” 

Lupie dropped her chin between her hands, her 
elbows resting on her knees, looking fixedly out 
to sea. 

“Now?” hinted the officer, taking her hand 
in his own. 

“Since I met you all is changed for me. There 


TALES IN TAPA 


seems to arise in me a repulsion for all those I used 
to love. It seems somehow, sometime, I was dif- 
ferent. I cannot regard you with awe, as the 
other Samoan girls do, and I believe in you. Oh, 
dear, dear boy,’’ she said suddenly, in a tone of 
mingled joy and resentment, ‘‘why did you ever 
come into my life? And what will happen to me 
when you go out of it again?” 

“I will never go out of your life,” said the 
man quietly. 

“I am betrothed to Sosimo,” she answered. 
“How can you overcome that?” 

He arose, drawing her up by her hand, and 
took her in his arms. 

“Love will find a way,” he quoted, and added, 
“Why, I would stop at nothing to obtain you for 
my own!” 

A twig snapped. Quickly turning, they espied 
a stealthy figure glide swiftly into the bush. 

“Oh, dearest!” exclaimed Lupie, in an under- 
tone, impulsively pressing her companion’s arm, 
“we cannot be too careful. See, already have we 
been discovered, and from the glimpse I got of his 
figure I believe it was Havelu, whom Tai and 
Sosimo have sent. He speaks English, too!” she 
gasped in terror. “Oh, Ernest! Not for anything 
in the world would I have harm happen to you, 
and so I am seized with a great fear. ’ ’ 

The man gently laughed at her. 

“Why, honey,” he said, “what harm could 
come to me, with my good ship out there in the 
harbor?” 

Her arm crept up his coat and warmly en- 
circled his neck. 

“You do not know the Samoans,” she 




“Near a stream which trickled over white 
pebbles and fell to a pool below.” 


THE HEART OF NONA 


29 


answered, yon tMnk that would stop them. 
They would wait for you in the bush.’’ 

She trembled slightly, and drew close to him. 

He held her tightly, very tightly, and pressed 
his lips to hers in a tender farewell. 

‘^You are everything in the world to me, 
dearest,” she sighed. ‘‘You are all I have.” 

* « • * « 

Up the neglected trail that tends to Vaia, two 
men made their way, and stopped at the entrance 
to a small cave near a stream which trickled over 
white pebbles, falling to a pool below. 

“Thinkest thou the white man is a fool?” 

“Nay, not a fool, hut this he will believe.” 

“And what falsehood canst thou invent to 
draw him to the place ? ” 

“That his sailor is held as a prisoner.” 

“Hast thou then captured a prisoner to prove 
it?” 

The man laughed in a coarse, satirical way. 

“He lies drunk at Mulinuu. When I rushed to 
Sosimo, with what I had seen, he was wild with 
wrath, and vowed vengeance to the white dog. 
‘Go thou, Havelu,’ he said, ‘and do what thou wilt, 
and I myself will befriend thee!’ As for thee,” 
he added, “keep thy mouth closed over your 
knowledge, and I will tell thee of a better plan.” 

Thus spoke the tall man, with a red flower 
stuck in his hair. 

His companion, whose short-cropped hair was 
limed, drew his brows into a frown. 

“It seems to me you take a deal of trouble 
over one woman — thou who hast had so many love 
affairs,” he said. 


30 


TALES IN TAPA 


^‘They were not Lnpie,” said the other, light- 
ing his cigarette. 

For some time they talked, squatted on the 
cold, damp floor with an oil-nut taper between 
them. Strange, they did not notice a dark form 
lying near them in a corner of the cave. 

They left as day was breaking over the hills 
and valleys of Upolu, and the thought occurred to 
Havelu how like the lives of two they were — the 
valleys dark and gloomy like himself, but Lupie^s 
smile was the tinge of light that edged the moun- 
tain tops. 

On they went, little heeding that down a 
shorter cut a sick and tottering figure wended. 
On, on, till her hands were sore and bleeding from 
the thorny brambles and sharp rocks with which 
her path was strewn. On, on, till Sosimo’s hut 
stood lonely by the sea. Gathering her rags about 
her, she entered the third door. Thus was it 
known that a friend had come. 

Sosimo was rolled in tapa, and she crouched 
beside him, and laid her hand on him. 

The mass of tapa heaved, a head was thrust 
out, and he suddenly sat up erect. 

‘‘Ho, Nona,^^ he said. “So hast thy witchery 
led thee again to me, to unfold the secrets of the 
dead? And how now?” 

Nona, the witch, glanced around like a timid 
animal, and once more laid her hand upon his arm. 

“Sosimo,” she warned, “take care! Thy peo- 
ple are but fooling thee. Yonder, far, far up the 
mountain, lying unto death in a small cave, I over- 
heard Havelu talking of his plans.” 

The chief ^s eyes narrowed. 

“What then?” he said. 


THE HEART OF NONA 


SI 


‘‘This: That Havelu is in love with your 
taupo. ’ ’ 

Sosimo half rose with an eager gesture. 

“Take care, Nona,” he warned. 

“It is true. I heard them talking it over in 
the cave. I listened. Said Mafu, ‘Thou takest a 
deal of trouble over one women, when thou hast 
loved so many. ’ And Havelu answered him thus, 
‘They were not Lupie!’ And then, in low voices, 
they spoke of thy anger at the news that the 
wicked Havelu imported thee, and thy consent to 
give him men to dispose of the white man, whom 
thou hast grown to hate. And then they said that 
before they attacked him they would dispose of 
you, and entice the white dog to thy hut, where 
they would discover him. It would be easy then, 
they said, to wreak vengeance on the murderer.” 

The chief rose to his full height, and drew his 
tapa around him. 

“Nona,” he said very quietly, “never yet hast 
thou told me false tidings. Now go! Both the 
white man and Havelu shall be dealt with in the 
same way by my hand, I promise you!” 

An hour later the news spread through Tun- 
gasi— 

“Havelu is no more! Havelu is no more ! The 
great and all-powerful one has seized him, and he 
lies like a fowl in the noose. Ere the stars have 
burned low, he will die for his treachery. Havelu 
is no more!” 

That night, dragging herself down to see what 
had befallen the man, Nona beheld with horror a 
beheaded prisoner lying in the house of the chief. 
# « # * « 

A big round sun, red and ominous, hung low 


TALES IN TAPA 


over the hilltops, and a brooding stillness lay over 
the land. Then a cry, horrid, piercing, was heard. 
Louder and more loudly it swelled, agonizing, 
heart-rending; then fainter, and still fainter, as it 
journeyed on its way. 

‘‘Aue! Auel He is killed! He is killed! 
Sosimo, our chief, the great and powerful one! 
Stabbed in the heart — he is dead! He is dead!’^ 

The tribes were maddened. Hurrying, scurry- 
ing, over hill and down dale, till every man and 
every woman and child was tearing to the village. 
Cries of vengeance were heard. Warriors stopped 
only to seize their ugly weapons, and streak their 
faces with the blood of slaughtered pigs. And 
each took up the fearful cry, — 

“He is killed! He is killed! Sosimo, our chief, 
the great and powerful one! Stabbed in the heart 
— he is dead! He is dead!^’ 

* * * • « 

Kasa, the new chief, stood on a rise of ground 
above the multitude, chanting — 

“Hearken unto my words, oh ye sons of the 
war god Bouli; 

“Ye have all of ye heard of the death of our 
chief, Sosimo. 

‘ ^ Stabbed in the heart he lies, where once he 
lived, and was happy. 

“If one knows aught of the deed, let him 
speak and thereby serve his people.’^ 

A sweltering heat quivered over the island, and 
the black clouds that enveloped the high mountain 
tops had covered the face of the sun. A terribly 
oppressive gloom hung everywhere. 


THE HEART OF NONA 


Dangerous and foreboding, rose the chant of 
a murderous war-song, over and over again, in a 
weird minor, softly but unwaveringly beginning, 
and swelling to a powerful tone. 

A man, whose hair, short-cropped and limed, 
flaunted a feather of many colors, stepped up 
above the throng. 

‘^It is there ye must look for revenge!’^ he 
cried, pointing with scorn to the harbor. ‘‘The 
white dog who, safe in his retreat, must ye hold 
responsible for the deed that has torn Upolo’s 
heart! 

“Aue! Aue!^’ cried the crowd excitedly. 
“Aue! Aue!” 

“Havelu — he who gave his life to appease the 
wrath of Sosimo, he heard him down at Matautu, 
him and your taupo, Lupie!” 

‘ ‘ Lupie ! Lupie ! ’ ’ cried the people, in dismay. 
“She who watches o’er the bier of the dead! 
Lupie! Lupie!” 

“Yea, she who watches o’er the bier of our 
dead, to whom she was untrue. The white devil 
held her in his arms speaking of his love for her, 
and Lupie spoke of our chief. ‘I would not stop 
at anything,’ then said the white man, ‘to get you 
for my own.’ ” 

The natives, already on the verge of fierceness 
to the foreigners who sent warships to their midst 
to interfere with the customs of their people, now 
went mad. 

“Death to the white man!” they shouted with 
one accord. “Death to the papalangil We will 
slay him with an hundred knives ! His head shall 
be placed on a pole to grace the house of our 


TALES IN TAPA 


SJf 


departed chief! Death to the traitor to our race! 
Death to the white man and his kin!’^ 

The vast throng heaved and surged, as an 
agitated sea. 

But a dying creature dragged herself to the 
feet of the new chief Kasa, and, raising her wasted 
form upon her elbow, raised a lank and skinny 
arm. 

‘^Nona!” muttered the multitude, drawing 
nearer. ‘‘Let us hear what the witch- woman has 
to say.’’ 

The poor arm was still upraised, and a strange, 
unearthly light seemed to radiate from her sunken 
eyes. 

hilled SosimoT' 

The fateful words rang out clear and resonant, 
and a gasp of awe was heard. 

‘ ‘ You ? ’ ’ they shrieked. ‘ ‘ You ! ’ ’ 

“Yes,” she answered, “1. Oh, good men and 
women of Upolo, listen to my words, I beg you! 
Many times have ye sought my council, ye and 
the chief who is no more, because I could see and 
hear things to which ye all were blind and deaf. 
For such a gift of God have ye called me the witch, 
but for such a gift am I thankful.” 

Her short breaths came with increasing diffi- 
culty, but she continued: 

“Many years ago, when I, Nona, dwelt on the 
Island of Monuia, a small boat one day drifted to 
its shores. I rescued a dying mother and her babe, 
but not in time to save the mother, who died while 
I was preparing food for her. But ere she passed 
away she gave the babe into my keeping, as a 
solemn trust, and bade me care for her, and if pos- 
sible to have her educated in the ways of her own 


THE HEART OF NONA 


S5 


people. I came later to this island, and gave the 
child over to the care of missionaries, telling them 
her story. 

‘‘When I heard that our chief was to marry 
her I was sore troubled, and many visions I had 
when the girPs mother came to me in my forlorn 
hut up yonder in the hills, and for hours at a time 
would I lie in the dark cave, where plainly I could 
hear her voice. Nay, do not laugh at me!’’ she 
pleaded, in broken tones, “when I tell you that one 
night I could not sleep with her persistent, 
troubled voice, and I hied me down to the tombs of 
our forefathers, and there solemnly prayed for 
guidance. I saw a knife, cold and sharp, and a 
voice told me that the time would come when I 
would use it. Last night the time came ! ’ ’ 

She paused, heaving a long sigh like a sob, 
and went on very feebly: 

“I can tell you no more. I pleaded with 
Sosimo, and told him your taupo’s story, but he 
laughed at me. ‘What difference can that make in 
my love for her?’ he said. ‘I tell thee, Nona, I 
swear by the blood of our fathers that I will have 
Lupie for my wife, be she white or black!’ And, 
torn by despair at his insolence and unbelief, min- 
gled with the love I bore the child who never knew 
me, I drew my knife. He, in madness, grasped at 
me, hurling me down, but I made a bold dash at 
him, and the blade pierced his selfish heart. That 
is all,” she concluded, in a whisper. “Do with 
me what ye will!” 

Nona fell back, and Kasa, a kindly man, bent 
and caught her in his arms. She was limp and 
lifeless, but a great peace enveloped her drawn 


se 


TALES IN TAP A 


face. The chief held high his hand in an attitude 
of resigxxation. 

‘‘We can do nothing now,’^ was all he said. 


# # * « # 


Some years later, when Captain Watson and 
his wife were in Samoa, they visited a quaint 
grave decorated with polished pebbles and waving 
sisis; and Lupie, kneeling, said a little prayer. 




THE NIGHT 

B ehold how gently somber shadows fall — 
Anon the purple afterglow, and now. 

As though the earth with beauty to appall, 

A dainty star illumines her dark brow. 


A QUIET GAME OF WHIST 



ONRAD, what for didt 
you trump it? You 
are — you are — achl 
what is it in Eng- 
lish? I myself want- 
ed that trick. ’ ’ Frau 
Kunst’s portly figure bristled. 
Herr Kunst chuckled. 

‘ ^ So didt I, ’ ’ he answered, 
sweeping up the cards. 

‘‘But a real gentleman is 
supposed to give in to a 
lady,’^ she insisted. 

‘ ‘ Fortunately not in whist, ’ ’ was her husband ’s 
smiling reply. » 

“W6ll, as I was saying, Mrs. Marshall,’^ she 
began, addressing me, ‘‘these islands are the worst 
place for servants. Now when we were in Cher- 
many we got a gude girl for 

“Franceska,^’ interrupted her spouse, “we 
play whist now.’’ 

Recalled to the game, she casually examined 
her hand. 

“Is it my turn?” she asked. 

“We have been waiting for some time,” 
remarked Herr Kunst. 



38 


TALES IN TAPA 


took that last trick? Oh, then it’s all 
right.” And her face beamed as she threw down 
an ace, and led another suit. 

“But these Indian boys — ach!” she burst out 
afresh, “undt I sent all the way to Fiji for them. 
To think of it, leaving my kitchen untidy, Mrs. 
Marshall, — even bread crumbs in the wood-box! 
Why, when I think of it, I could jump up undt — 
undt ” 

Herr Kunst laid down his cards. 

“Franceska,” he enjoined with warmth, “Sitz 
neider, du hist wie eine Veruckte!” 

A cool breeze drifted through the open doors, 
lifting the dainty curtains, and causing the light 
of the hanging-lamp to flicker. Outside it was 
very quiet save for the distant thundering of the 
surf, the fitful rustling of cocoanut trees around 
the house, or perhaps the remarks of a few pas- 
sers-by pausing to look in at the group. 

“Have you heard, Frau Kunst,” said I, chang- 
ing the subject, “that an American warship is due 
to arrive here tomorrow? It was Mrs. Marsden, 
I think, who told me. Isn’t she the wife of the 
teacher of the native college?” 

“Yah,” abruptly replied Frau Kunst, with a 
meaning look toward her husband. “So then we 
shall have some fine gentlemen in Samoa once 
more, eh?” 

“Now will you be good?” laughed my husband 
as Herr Kunst played a card. 

“I hear,” remarked the latter, winking at me, 
“that Mrs. Marsden intends to entertain them, 
undt is making great preparations.” 

“What?” exclaimed the good Frau, “undt you 
have told me nothing about it?” 


A QUIET GAME OF WHIST 39 

‘‘Why should I, Franceska?” inquired Herr 
Kunst innocently. “How now, are you chealous 
of her alreadty?” 

His wife bestowed upon him a withering look. 

‘ ‘ Conrad, you are a terrible man, ’ \ she said. 

“You see, my wife is not too fond of her,’’ 
explained our host, pouring the last stein of beer. 
“She says ” 

“Well, I leave it to you,” impulsively inter- 
rupted his wife, “if it wasn’t an outrageous thing 
that the Marsden didt to me!” 

“Prosit!” called Herr Kunst, genially lifting 
his stein. 

“One day,” began his wife, “I invited her to 
spend the evening wit’ us. Of course, Mr. Kunst, 
he plays the wiolin, undt sometimes I sing mit 
him. ’ ’ 

“I have heard your voice, Frau Kunst,” I 
remarked, “and your singing is admirable.” 

“So!” said she. “Undt Mrs. Marsden, you 
know, she plays the piano. Well, I didn’t make 
any great preparations; just hadt a few send- 
wiches undt colfee undt liverwurst wit some beer. 
Well, about eight o’clock we sat on the werandah 
waiting, undt presently Mr. Kunst he shades his 
eyes wit his hand so, undt I say, ‘ What is it, Con- 
rad?’ ‘I think it’s a funeral,’ says Mr. Kunst. 
‘It can’t be a funeral,’ I saidt, ‘because it’s com- 
ing in here,’ for, sure enough, it turned up the 
path, imdt stopped in front of our door.” 

Herr Kunst was shaking with suppressed 
mirth, but his wife ignored him as she laid down 
her cards, and proceeded in a serious manner to 
count them off on her fingers. 

“First, there was the Marsden herself, lying 




TALES IN TAPA 


in state on a mattress in a cart, which eight 
Samoan men were pulling. Then came Tutsy, the 
eldest Marsden child five years old carriedt by 
two Samoans, who hadt made a chair wit their 
hands. After that came Buffalo Bill, two years of 
age, in the same way, undt last came the baby. 
One Samoan woman — ach! so fat, — carriedt her, 
annudder an extra shawl, annudder her boddle, 
annudder her pillow, undt annudder her rubber 
sheet. That made twenty-one in all!’^ she cried. 
‘‘Think of it, twenty-one ! ^ ^ 

“ ‘Gude evening,’ says Mr. Kunst. ‘I see 
you’ve quite a procession wit you.’ 

“ ‘Yes,’ she says, ‘only a few students from 
our college. You see, Mr. Marsden, never likes 
the idea of my going out alone.’ 

“ ‘We have never heardt of assaultment in the 
islands, ’ I saidt, undt I began to count the proces- 
sion. 

“ ‘Where will I put them all, I wonder,’ I 
saidt at last. ‘My house is not bigger as your 
college, Mrs. Marsden.’ 

“ ‘Why not let them sit on the floor in your 
bedt-room?’ she said. ‘It’s a nice big room, undt 
they’ll all go in there, I think.’ 

“I hastened to put away all my waluables that 
might be around in sight, undt I let them come 
into the room. Ach, du lieber himmel! of all the 
noise! Babies crying, undt natives laughing undt 
talking, so we could not hear the music we played. 
Finally the Marsden she saidt, ‘Mrs. Kunst, just 
give them something to keep them quiet, won’t 
you please? A few loaves of breadt undt some 
tins of salmon will do.’ ” 

“Oh, now, Frau Kunst,” laughed my husband. 


A QUIET GAME OF WHIST U 


‘‘You are joking, aren’t you! How could they get 
away with all that!” 

Herr Kunst laughed. 

“All that you say! Well, Dr. Marshall, when 
you are here longer you will discover that these 
natives have anything but small appetites,” he 
said. 

I Frau Kunst leaned over in her excitement. 

“ It is true, ’ ’ she cried. ‘ ‘ Undt you should have 
seen the state they left my bedt-room in. It took 
me more as two hours to clean up the mess they 
made. Mr. Kunst he just died laughing, but I tell 
you I was so madt I didn’t sleep a wink all night, 
undt I got even wit my husband by making him 
get up undt talk to me. ’ ’ 

. ‘‘Why, what was the cause of her coming in 
such a manner!” I inquired. “Do they live very 
far from here!” 

I was a newcomer to the islands, and the other 
ladies were just beginning to call upon me. 

“Now think of it,” exclaimed my hostess with 
heat. “They live three doors from us. It was 
just to show us how stylish they were, to have so 
many servants. I have been lying awake nights 
thinking of some way to pay her back.” 

‘ ‘ She intended to get ahead of her in entertain- 
ing the officers when the next warship shouldt 
come in, ’ ’ hinted Herr Kunst, with a chuckle. 

My husband, rising, picked up his hat from a 
near-by chair. 

“What would you do, Frau Kunst,” he said, 
“if I told you that Mrs. Marshall was misinformed, 
and that the warship expected tomorrow is Ger- 
man, not American!” 

Our hostess looked at us mischievously. 


TALES IN TAPA 


slie cried, eagerly, it was the 
‘Kronstadt^ I would be more as happy! Why, we 
know every officer on that ship, undt I would just 
show off like anything!’^ 

‘‘Well, Frau Kunst,” said my husband very 
quietly, “you can begin without delay, for the 
‘Kronstadt’ it is and no other.” 

A smile of unspeakable delight overspread her 
face and she began humming a waltz song. 

“What didt I tell you, Conrad? I told you 
my chance would come,” she sang, and her mel- 
low voice fell vibrant on the still night-air. 

“I see bills on the horizon,” I jokingly 
remarked, as my husband assisted me downstairs. 

We had walked the length of the path, and 
were opening the gate, when — 

“She will sleep gude tonight, you bet,” called 
Herr Kunst, laughing, and holding the lamp above 
his head, that we might see the way. 




REVELATION 

m Y eyes rest on a scene so still, so fair; 

*Tis close of day. A silver star hangs high 
Amid the blushes of the evening sky — 

My world so dark, hut yours so rosy. Why? 
I turn away, and sadly, with a sigh. 

Is it because, my sweet one, you are there? 






FINEANA 

►. . _ 





The Cave-Maiden 


I . OLOMOTUA, the whole 

village, lay in drowsy 
silence, only the hum- " 
ming of summer-flies 
and the distant boom- 
ing of the surf break- 
ing the stillness. They 
sat in the shade of the 
old kiawe tree, where 
shadows played with 
sunshine on the smooth 
thick grass. At a lit- 
tle distance a mongrel 
dog lay full length on the ground, sleeping in 
the warmth of the sun; and further on two or three 
grass huts relieved the monotony of the landscape. 
Mann’s fingers nimbly plaited a long green pahn- 
branch into a strip of matting, her wrinkled face 
and withered hands betraying the many summers 
she had seen, while beside her sat Fineana, the 
graceful Tongan maiden, lithe and beautiful, 
whose eyes were radiant with sunny hopes, and 
whose lips were red as the large hibiscus blossom 
she wore above her ear. One foot placed over the 
other knee kept time to a dreamy tune or native 
siva which she softly hummed, at the same time 

4S 



TALE8 IN TAPA 


U 

carefully rolling a siluka (cigarette) in a piece of 
pandanus leaf. Then, lighting it, she began to 
smoke, allowing the lilac fumes to ascend heavily 
from her parted lips. With a sudden gesture of 
impatience she turned to her aged companion; 

‘ ^ Come, Manu, ’ ’ she said, impulsively, contract- 
ing her dark brows to a slight frown, ‘4t is now 
time you told me something of Ofa, my mother, of 
whom no doubt you know so much yet say so lit- 
tle. Today am I a woman, being sixteen, and am 
courted by the chief -boy, Langi, yet you speak not. 
Come, tell me,^’ she broke off, laying a soft hand 
upon the shrivelled arm, ‘‘was Ofa beautiful, 
Manu, my guardian and protector?’’ 

The old woman dropped her half-finished mat, 
and looked at the girl at her side. The leaves were 
stirred by a gust of wind, and a passing cloud 
threw a shadow momentarily over the land. 
Manu’s thoughts flew back along the years. 

“Yes, Fineana,” was her reply at length. 
“Yes, she was so. Can it be possible that you who 
are called Fineana, the Cave-Maiden, have heard 
naught of Ofa, and her lover, Tafele? What mir- 
acle is this that has subdued to silence the prat- 
tling tongues of women and the warning words of 
men?” 

The girl raised her dark brows in disdain, and 
her fine features and half -parted lips were silhou- 
etted on the ground. 

“lam not friendly to women, Manu,” she said 
with scorn, “and I am not as other girls with 
men.” 

She drew herself up proudly, re-arranging her 
vala-skirt with a careless gesture, while Manu 
watched her, a touching tenderness filling her 


FINE AN A 


Jf5 


eyes with a kindly light of sympathy. It had been 
long indeed since the story was on every bold lip 
of the village, hut, thanks be unto the Otua, there 
had also been many, many changes since that turb- 
ulent time, and some there were that the saints 
had seen fit to call, for which she was doubly 
thankful. 

And then, slowly and in her own quaint way, 
to the girl who, leaning back upon her arms in 
rapt attention listened, she told this story: 

‘^Your mother was the most beautiful of all 
Tongan maidens in her day. But she possessed 
what few of our women dare to possess, and that 
is, a disposition. She loved but once, but that 
once was always, and her heart knew naught of 
infidelity. She was ordained by nature to be the 
bride of a king, but some there were who said 
that were a man who had naught but love to offer 
to engage her heart, him would she accept above 
all other men. That they were right was proved 
when Tafele arrived. She had but met Tafele 
when Ofa knew she loved him, and straightway 
let him know it, though, if cruel duty to her father 
had been considered, she would not have looked 
at him. For he was not a chief of our people, and 
Fonua-Eiki, the powerful chief of Hahake, was 
then a suitor for your mother’s hand. 

‘ ‘ Things had begun to progress thus when one 
very dark night Tafele made his way along the 
grass road, taking great caution as he neared a 
hut within which company was assembled. He 
carried a large stick for protection and his black 
vala and mats were twisted up at one side. He 
was a strong, handsome boy, Fineana, fitted in 
every way to be a chief and descendant of the 


TALES IN TAPA 


Tui Tongas, for his was a good and determined 
face. But his dark eyes softened as he approached 
so near the abode of his loved one, just as I have 
seen Langi’s soften at the sight of you; and he 
stopped abruptly, lest his desire to see her might 
disclose his presence there. The grass door of the 
hut was raised, and the light from a string of tui- 
tui nuts shed faint rays on a strip of the lawn with- 
out. To the left was a group of men talking earn- 
estly, among whom Tafele recognized Lavaki, the 
man of the house, and with revulsion, the chief 
who had come to ask the hand of the pretty maid, 
Ofa, whom he regarded as his own. 

‘Curse him!’ he thought, and, embracing a 
resolve, he all hut muttered, ‘But it is with Tafele, 
the son of Manu-Malohi, with whom you will have 
to vie, and I swear I shall see your bones in the 
toils of Devil-fish ere you can claim Ofa for your 
wife!’ 

“Crouching stealthily along, he crossed the 
streak of light, and, being detected from within, 
Lavaki called out, ‘Who goes there? If a friend, 
enter, and welcome to our kava feast. ’ 

“There was a momentary silence in the group 
of laughing, fiower-bedecked girls who sat facing 
the man, while Ofa, sad-eyed, with star-flowers in 
her hair, suddenly ceased her task of mixing kava, 
a vague fear clutching at her heart. 

“ ‘It is but Bolo, father,’ she said softly, doubt- 
ing her own words. ‘I sent him but a moment 
since to fetch more water for the pounded root. ’ 

“Then she turned, whispering a command to 
Soku, her maid, whereupon the big kava bowl was 
deftly upset amid confusion, and the clever plotter 
slipped away into the exterior darkness. . 





Ofa, 



her 


with star-fiowers 
hair. ’ ’ 


in 





FINE AN A 


11 

‘So it is you, Tafele,’ she whispered, draw- 
ing him hurriedly away out of hearing. ‘ Oh, why 
will you endanger yourself and me in this foolish 
manner? Is it not enough that I must bear this 
terrible sorrow of marrying a man I do not love? 
Why rouse my regret and repulsion for him 
more?'' 

“ ‘You intend to wed him, then?' 

“ ‘Oh, what else can I do, Tafele?' pleaded the 
girl, ‘He is a chief, and all-powerful, and I am but 
my father's daughter, and must obey.' 

“ ‘You will never marry him!' 

“Of a threw her arms around her lover's neck 
and tearlessly sobbed a prayer. 

“ ‘That it might be so, Tafele,' she said. 

“The sound of Lavake's voice calling her 
aroused her with a start. 

“ ‘ Go ! Go ! Fly, Tafele ! ' she admonished, free- 
ing herself. ‘You are in the greatest danger, and 
I would have nothing of harm to thee. Quickly, 
quickly, Tafele!' she persisted, ‘Lest you be struck 
in the darkness of this night by the ever wary 
spies of the chief!' 

“ ‘But, Ofa,' he objected, ‘how can you bid me 
leave you when even now in yonder hut the final 
arrangements for your matrimonial transaction 
are being made ? Think you I am a cray-fish — that 
I can witness my own sacrifice in silence, and 
depart?" 

“ ‘Not now! Not now, I beg of you!' cried 
Ofa, turning around suspiciously. ‘Do not say 
these things here to me, but meet me tomorrow 
night at the west door of the church on the hill — 
the singing contest — I shall come out last. ' 

“ ‘It shall be as you wish, Fonua Eiki,' her 


TALES IN TAPA 


father was saying as she re-entered the door of the 
hut, ‘for since you have seen fit to bestow upon me 
and mine the honor of your attentions, your 
desires are to be considered ours. There- 
fore, daughter, ’ he continued, ‘ do thou make more 
kava for our exalted guest, and be ready to 
depart with him within the week.’ 

“Of a uttered a faint cry, which was quickly 
suppressed at the glance of her father. So, hang- 
ing her head low, she proceeded to squeeze the 
fibre used to strain the dregs from the liquid, 
shaking it over her left shoulder in honor of 
a chief. Her lips were pressed closely together, 
and a fierce look of determination was the only 
resentment evident. 

“ ‘If he should fail me ’ she thought. 

“It was midnight when the company dis- 
persed, and Ofa and her maid sought their small 
hut fifty yards away. It was an unhappy night 
and Ofa tossed about in haunting dreams, awak- 
ing with a cry of terror. Her maid, for protection, 
slept beside her, and, being weary, she breathed 
heavily, while the moon flooded them both 
through the open doorway. But in the morning 
when she finally awoke, the children of the village 
were at play. 

“The day was all excitement, for the annual 
singing contest was near at hand, and bands of 
singers were arriving in Nukualofa from all the 
neighboring villages, so that when eight bells 
struck on the clock of the King’s Chapel bands of 
gaily attired girls were filing into the little church 
on the hill. Ofa was there, more beautiful than 
ever, in her tapa vala-skirt, a blue-silk kofu, or 
upper garment, with low neck and short sleeves. 


FINE AN A 


i£ 

trimmed with lace and strings of pearls, and a 
wreath of white gardenia buds in her thick black 
hair, which hung in waves about her shoulders. 
The other maidens were too busy to notice her 
then, however, and at the close of the concert 
streamed out of the doors, laughing and eager to 
get home to discuss the affair. 

^^Ofa came out just as the old native warden 
was closing his windows, and started to make her 
way slowly down the hill, but, hearing her name 
called softly, she turned, to be clasped in two 
strong arms. 

‘Siuke! but you look beautiful tonight!’ 
exclaimed Tafele, as he held her off admiringly. 
‘Far too pretty to be alone — ^but are you alone?’ 
he inquired, suddenly looking around. 

“ ‘Yes, Tafele,’ replied Of a sadly, ‘but very 
soon I shall have a chief to protect me from all 
men, — even you. ’ 

“ ‘Do you mean Fonua-Eiki? Has he, then, at 
last received the consent of your father?’ 

‘ ‘ Of a silently nodded her reply. 

“ ‘It will never be,’ said Tafele grimly, ‘for I 
swear by all the gods of our forefathers — by God 
who watches over us this night — that it shall never 
be! I have loved you from the first with a love 
that knows no bounds, and life would be drear 
indeed to me had I not you. Last night I lay 
awake all night, and when the sun came up out of 
the great waste of waters and touched the tips of 
the cocoanut trees with gold, I had settled on a 
plan for both of us. ’ 

‘ ‘ Ofa raised her face and smiled at him. 

“ ‘What is it?’ she inquired, almost hopelessly. 

‘ What can we do ? Where can we go, that his men 


60 


TALES IN TAPA 


will not betray us ? Heaven knows that I am will- 
ing to do anything to escape a life of slavery and 
a father who so heartlessly has given me away ! ’ 
‘Are you?^ cried Tafele, bending eagerly. 
‘ Then listen to my plan. It is to leave this island, 
Ofa, in my own small craft and sail away to the 
west over the sea, too far away even to hear the 
roaring of the reef. Wilt goV 

“For a moment Ofa was silent. Her thoughts 
returned unconsciously to her home and compan- 
ions, to the memories of childhood, and her dear 
girl friends. She gave no heed to her mother, who 
should be first in every maiden’s heart, for alas! 
Ofa had no mother. Some years before she had 
fled from the cruelties of her unmerciful husband, 
while little Ofa, who had been taken by her mother 
in her flight, had been stolen by the spies of 
Lavaki, and returned to him. Long after her dis- 
appearance, false rumors were circulated by the 
gossips, and then after awhile they were satisfied 
to believe that she was dead. Ofa had often 
grieved for her mother, and in this moment of sus- 
pense she realized her loss; but, knowing well the 
life she must lead with the chief, her brave heart 
responded to the call of Tafele. 

“ ‘Yes, I will go,’ she cried desperately. ‘Need 
I fear the sea ? I, a Tongan ? ’ 

“ ‘Then it shall be so. I will fill my boat with 
provisions. Be at Tuku Tonga on the beach at the 
coming hour of three. Fare thee well and slip 
home alone now, to avoid suspicion. Alua. ’ 

“The chimes of the old monastery at Maofaga 
were pealing the third stroke as Ofa emerged from 
the bush to the beach below. A westerly breeze 
rustled the foliage, while the moon, half hidden by 


FINE AN A 


51 


a silver cloud, cast lights and shadows over sea 
and land. 

‘You may ride back again now, Soku,’ whis- 
pered Of a, hurriedly, ‘but be sure and take the 
beach road, as you may encounter danger by the 
way we came. ’ 

“ ‘Of a, you have come!’ exclaimed Tafele, 
rushing to meet her. 

‘ ‘ Then as her lover made the many hasty prep- 
arations for their strange voyage, she told him 
excitedly that he must make haste, for her father 
had discovered her escape, and was even at that 
moment after her. She told him how, as she 
mounted her horse behind Soku, her father’s head 
appeared at the door of his hut, and, throwing 
tapa around him, he had roused the men of the 
house by crying indignantly: ‘Tongans, Tongans, 
make haste and mount your horses, for my daugh- 
ter Of a is running away from me!’ 

“Tafele hurriedly raised the sail, the boat lay 
on its side, and in the stiff breeze the reefs were 
soon passed; the villages seeming to run away 
from them into the distance beyond. 

“Away, away, they sailed past Makaha’a with 
its flag-staff and pilot’s buildings amid the trees; 
past Fafa, the quarantine island, its little houses 
showing white in the pale light; past Velitoa, its 
isles snuggling closely together; past Eueki, into 
the open sea, while the stars fled from the ap- 
proaching light of the morning, and the flat, cres- 
cent-shaped island faded away into space. As far 
as the eye could reach was a vast expanse of end- 
less waters; above were rugged, hurrying clouds, 
flying westward from the rising sun, which pres- 
ently shot up, tinting their edges with a golden 


TALES IN TAPA 


fringe. The two in the boat did not speak. They 
were at sea, sailing over the restless waves that 
bore them to their destiny. Ofa sat in the bottom 
of the small craft resting her cheek against Ta- 
fele’s knee, her large brown eyes gazing up into 
his face with an unspeakable love. And even aft- 
erwards, when the sun went down, leaving streaks 
of flame and orange in the sky, and the great dome 
above them fllled with stars, still they sailed over 
the sea in silence, with love-light in their eyes, and 
a great quiet in their hearts. 

‘^They arrived as the afternoon sun was sink- 
ing like a ball of fire into the sea, and the fast 
falling twilight caused the cocoanut trees to cast 
weird shadows here and there on the island. It 
was very still, save for the gentle murmur of a 
rising breeze through the palm-fronds and the hol- 
low moaning of the swell, as the sea entered the 
coral caves beneath the cliffs. 

‘‘Their small boat with its two occupants was 
making for shore, and Tafele, having discovered a 
patch of white, smooth beach on which in safety 
to land, he headed his craft toward it. The boat 
grated upon the sand, and the lowered sail rocked 
from side to side, keeping time to the lapping of 
the waves which broke about them. 

“ ‘Come, Ofa,’ said the man, and, tucking his 
vala more firmly around his stalwart body, 
reached forth his arms to the girl in the boat. Lift- 
ing her carefully, he carried her ashore up the 
steep incline to the seclusion of the thick under- 
growth, and disappeared into the forest. To the 
right, Tafele followed a narrow foot-path leading 
in a zig-zag direction over great rounded mounds 
and down steep grades on the other side, tearing 



“Tafele followed a narrow foot-path.” 


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FINE AN A 


5S 


away with one hand the slender vines and tangled 
tendrils as he went. It was cool and peaceful in 
the dark shade as they passed along, and soon they 
reached the bottom of a steep hill, where the path 
darted off to the left. Tafele held Ofa’s hand, and, 
by drawing himself up with the other, he suc- 
ceeded after many efforts in reaching the top. The 
two then crept under the thick, trailing vines and 
finally entered a narrow opening through which 
they were obliged to creep. It became very dark, 
and Ofa closed her eyes, feeling her way back- 
wards. Then a bright light burst forth, and they 
found themselves in an immense cave, where, by 
cautiously feeling their way from one boulder to 
another, they stood at length on a large slab of 
white coral at the base. 

‘You are familiar with this place, Tafele,’ 
whispered Ofa. ‘ Tell me how that is so. ’ 

“ ‘The wars of old,’ replied the man, ‘brought 
out many discoveries of places hitherto unknown, 
and this is one of them. In a feud between a tribe 
of my father and that of Tolua, another powerful 
chief, this island was won by our side. We can 
now dwell here with safety unmolested, and in 
time we can build us a grass house and live as any 
Tongan. ’ 

“He held her in his arms for one tense moment, 
and then they began to examine the cave. How 
strange it seamed now that they were safe, to think 
that Mother Earth had seemingly opened her arms 
and hidden them in her bosom. Great stalactites 
hung in snowy clusters overhead, above which the 
big dome faded away into blackest gloom. Their 
eyes sought the walls. Pale greens and greys 
tinted the face of the rock on every side, while 


5J^ 


TALES IN TAPA 


below their feet the sea came and receded with a 
gurgling sound. Its depths were an intense blue, 
and swarms of fishes darted to and fro, all colors, 
against the dazzling whiteness of the sand beneath. 
The last faint reflection of the glowing clouds shed 
a pale opal tint throughout the interior, and a flock 
of swallows, with cheerful twittering, flew in to 
seek their mud nests built above. 

‘How beautiful!’ exclaimed Of a, clasping 
Tafele in her arms. ‘I am queen of our island, the 
cave — and Tafele!’ And the caverns re-echoed 
her words like the deep tone of a bell. ’ ’ 

The old woman paused, heaving a deep sigh. 
Rousing himself, and stretching, the dog walked 
over and licked her hand. 

“Happy dreams,” she murmured. “Of a and 
Tafele were young and sentimental, as all young 
people should be. They lived alone on the island 
for two years, sustaining themselves on fish, which 
were plentiful in those parts, and raising yams 
and bananas. In time Tafele built with his own 
hands a small grass house, which was completely 
hidden from the safe approach to the island, and 
overlooked on the windward side the rough, open 
sea. Once in a while, under cover of night, Tafele 
would row to Neiafu, the big village three miles 
away, and would steal to my lonely hut, far 
removed from the others of the town, bringing me 
fish and feki (octopus), and taking back with him 
some tapa and foodstuffs in return. You see, as I 
lived alone always, the people of the village were 
pleased to call me Crazy Manu. That is why 
Tafele came to me when he knew I was avoided 
by all people. 

“One day — on the day that we had set apart 


FINE AN A 


55 


for his usual visit — Tafele came not to me, and I 
feared, knowing him so well and loving him as my 
own son. So, toward daybreak, I stole a small 
canoe which was lying on the sand below the vil- 
lage and paddled down the harbor to the island 
of the cave. Tafele had told me just so much of 
his secret as he desired me to know, and that was 
that he had rescued his sweetheart from a chief, 
and that for safety they lived alone on the island 
which was his. I wended my way up the narrow 
path by the silver light which flickered through 
the leaves of the great kiawe trees meeting in a 
bower overhead, my bare feet making no sound as 
I stole along. I remember now that as I ap- 
proached the mound there were three mournful 
wails of the Tupau bird, which has always been an 
omen of evil and unhappiness to our people. A 
grave fear overcame me for a moment, and, in 
doubt, I stood and listened to the portentous 
sound. Then I turned and, spying the edge of the 
hut beneath the trees and overhanging vines, I 
crept toward it, and crouched at the open door. 
Oh! Fineana, may you never suffer what I was 
called upon to suffer on that day!’’ 

Manu’s eyes fast filled with tears, and sud- 
denly she buried her face in her withered hands 
and gave vent to her grief in sobs. 

‘‘I saw his beautiful bride,” she continued 
brokenly, ‘4n a bower of tapa and Tafele bending 
over her. By the Great Chief of Heaven! I saw 
more than this, Fineana! Breathlessly, I entered 
and, falling upon my knees, I grasped her dying 
body in my arms. 

‘‘ ‘Ofa!’ I cried. ‘My child! My child! Otua 
Eiki in Heaven, tr^ke her not from me now! For 


56 


TALES IN TAPA 


whom I have long waited in patience, knowing that 
one day she wonld come to me! Oh, that Yon 
have let me see her hut once I am more than grate- 
ful!’ ” 

Mann’s eyes were overflowing, and burning 
tears ran down her furrowed cheeks, while locks 
of her white hair fell disheveled about her worn 
face. 

‘ ‘ When I replaced her upon her bed of ferns, ’ ’ 
she said, at length, very quietly, ^ ‘ she was dead — 
quite dead. And I kissed her hands and her feet, 
Fineana, and held her in my lonely arms for a 
long, long time in a last embrace. I know not 
whether minutes or hours passed as silently I 
prayed, but finally I was aroused by the voice of 
Tafele, who placed in my arms a small roll of tapa. 

‘Take this, Mann,’ he said, ‘as a precious gift 
from Of a and from me ! ’ 

“That is all. When I opened the bundle, I 
found you — you of the red lips and dancing eyes. 
And I called you Fineana, or Maiden of the Cave, 
and I cherished you because you once belonged to 
her whom in all the world I loved the best. So 
you put an end to your mother’s happiness, my 
child, ’ ’ concluded Manu, picking up her unfinished 
mat, “but brought sunshine into my life. Your 
father did not live long after that. So perhaps 
some day when the Great Chief of the Heavens 
shall throw open the door of his home to you, you 
will find Of a and Tafele waiting there.” 

Fineana ’s siluka dropped from her hand as she 
gazed into space, and the palm branches rustled 
overhead. 



‘‘Fineaiia’s siluka dropped from her hand 
as she gazed into space, and the palm branches 
rustled overhead. ’ ’ 






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LOVE’S PRICE I 

f- 


T WILL never be. You 
will see.^’ 

Tbe voice within 
the small thatched 
hut was softly appeal- 
ing, a touch of sad- 
ness lurking in its vi- 
brant melody. 

Wafu sat cross- 
legged on an old mat, 
weaving strange little 
flowers and fragrant leaves into a wreath, which, 
being completed by a soft twist, she placed upon 
her head. And as she looked up at him she laughed 
merrily, as if, like a rose of yesterday, her doubts 
had faded away. 

The man gazed into her face with an expres- 
sion which betrayed dull fascination; that look 
which white men in the islands give the brown- 
skinned women, whom they do not wed. 

^^Wafu,’’ he said doggedly, have given you 
my promise; is that not enough?’’ 

He was seated on a wooden box kept always 
for the honor of his coming, and as he spoke in the 
native tongue he leaned forward, resting his face 
in his hands. 

She, wrapt in the momentary delight his words 



58 


TALES IN TAPA 


effected, leaned back on her arms, a great love- 
light shining in her eyes. 

‘‘Yes, yes, Alafi; I know it is unkind in me,’' 
she sighed, “but the officers who come here so 
often on the warships, — they speak that way, too. 
But by and by the big ships go away. And the 
women — what becomes of themT’ 

Her hand seemed to tremble slightly as she 
drew from under the band holding her vala-skirt 
a few pieces of dark tobacco and, lighting a match, 
singed them over the flame. She watched them 
shrivel and curl, and the reflected light playing 
about her face revealed a sad expression. Gather- 
ing the crumpled bits together, she carefully rolled 
them into a long cigarette, and, after partaking of 
a whiff or two, handed it to him. 

“Even when you first came to Tonga,” she 
began, hesitatingly, “I liked you. Don’t you 
remember how often I went to your little store on 
the beach? It was not to buy that I went,” she 
admitted; “it was only to look at you.” 

The man smoked in silence, watching the girl 
light her cigarette by a glowing bit of tapa, which 
she afterwards placed in an old tomato can. 
Sometimes she shook her foot nervously; once she 
broke out into spasmodic snatches of weird minor 
ditties, those ancient love lays that had echoed 
before her in bygone generations, gesticulating, 
meanwhile, with velvety, yielding hands. 

The man Alfred watched her with interest. 
Not now, but at first she had been a new type to 
him. Now she was no longer a new type, but one 
grown dangerously familiar. She stood out alone, 
gracefully feminine in a background of riotous ^ 
tropical beauty. The flowers were red mostly, 


4 V* 





She 


lighted 


it with a piece 


of glowing tapa.’’ 




LOVERS PRICE 


59 


glaring their boldness beneath long, languorous 
fronds, and standing out from cool beds of under- 
growth. The very breeze that came over the land 
was intense with thoughts of love; the life itself, 
warped within its own illusions, desires, longings, 
was dangerous. 

He saw the girl of his choice through sensu- 
ous eyes. Till she met him she was innocent, but 
the underlying principle, the great truth, had pre- 
vailed, and she had sacrificed herself, her youth, 
her beauty, her entirety, to' the man she loved. 
As for him, he saw only a brown child of nature 
in a wild, untrammeled garden, with bare feet, 
fiowing hair, and unselfish heart. If she loved him 
too much, was he to blame? 

A soft, warm hand was laid upon his knee. 
Wafu had crept over as though she had known 
his thoughts. 

‘‘Alafi,’^ she murmured, the tears gathering in 
her big brown eyes, ‘ 4t is good to be a man. See, 
you may then love whom you will, but unfortu- 
nately, it is not the same for us. A man loses 
nothing by loving a woman, even be she a dark- 
skinned woman like me, but the woman, see what 
she loses ! It is a glorious privilege to be loved by 
such as you, but for most of us the price is very 
high. Yet for you, Alafi,^’ she cried vehemently, 
drawing near, and clasping him within her arms, 
‘‘for you I am willing to pay any price — the price 
of love ! ’ ’ 

After that she undertook to make his home 
attractive in her own simple way, bringing gar- 
lands to his house and bedecking his dresser with 
them; draping over his pictures long strings of 
beads; cleaning his cottage so that it would be 


60 


TALES IN TAPA 

pleasant for him on his return from the store. 
Nothing was distasteful, because for him it was 
done; the various duties proved a delightful task, 
and she sang about her work. The tobacco-stained 
matting in time became gradually cleaner and the 
small mirrors shone as silver. Then, too, she 
brought flowers — great bunches of scarlet hibiscus, 
which she placed beside his green reading-lamp, 
while longa-longas, or sago-palms, sought through 
miles of tangled brush, in neglected parts, were 
brought in and placed wherever there was a bare 
spot in his home. So the cottage was transformed 
from a rude lodging to an abode of beauty, and 
Wafu’s hands had done it for the one man in the 
world she loved. 

As time went on, however, the girPs songs 
dropped from gay ditties to the sad love-lays of 
broken hearts, for a great fear had entered hers, 
and troubled her always. It was an unspeakable, 
dull longing which she could not define ; it gnawed 
at her soul and tormented her quiet. Alafi was 
just as kind to her as he had ever been; still gave 
her little gold-plated pins and cotton laces, and 
said he loved her. But why did he not make her 
his wife! Why, whenever the subject was intro- 
duced into their conversations by her (always by 
her) did he so quickly talk of other things! They 
did not have to wait. He owned a store where 
Europeans and Tongans traded. And, running 
through all this trend of thought was an idea at 
which her heart almost stopped in its accustomed 
beating, and this arose from the suggestion that 
perhaps, after all, Alafi did not care to marry her. 
Many a time, and often of late, had she been 
warned by wiser heads than hers that the game 


LOVERS PRICE 


61 


she was playing was a most dangerous one, and 
the chances were very small in her favor. Of 
course they had told her that other men had trifled 
with Tongan girls to no purpose, but then they 
were speaking of other men, and not Alafi; not the 
one who had converted her every-day existence 
into a world of dreams. It made every difference, 
because they were not Alafi. 

She looked at the rare fans on the walls that 
she had given him; the bedspread lying over his 
couch; a large, silky mat with a worsted fringe, 
which she had woven for him with her own hands, 
and thought, with a passing wave of shame, of the 
tawdry gifts he had assumptuously offered her in 
return. But her kind heart rebelled at the mere 
fancy, and she rebuked herseff, and gave him more, 
so that he could never have any cause to doubt her 
love. She knew that he was different from all 
men, and, as she was really in need of no other 
home at present, she would wait. 

So Wafu waited in patience, and said nothing 
to Alafi. 

One never-to-be-forgotten night, when the 
steamer from Auckland was unloading at the 
wharf, Alafi, as usual, came to her house to see 
her, dressed much nicer than ordinarily, with his 
coat on and a new straw hat and apparently very 
happy indeed. 

He looked at her with a light in his eyes she 
never had seen before, and, smiling, carelessly 
extended his hand to her. 

am going away, Wafu,” he said. 

She stood as one transfixed, while all the world 
grew terribly dark, and the earth even seemed to 


62 


TALES IN TAPA 


desert her, sliding unsteadily away from under her 
feet. 

The man was silent, feeling but not understand- 
ing the effect his words had had on her, and tried 
to caress her hand. But a sudden burst of pent-up 
fury, mingled with humiliation, and pride, over- 
balanced by an all-powerful love, overcame her, 
and as her lips opened to hurl reproach at the 
worthless object of her devotion, she sank, instead, 
at his feet, burying her face in her hands. 

‘‘Oh, Alafi, my dear, dear love, not that!” 

Her voice seemed to carry from far away, and 
the words impassioned as they were sounded mean- 
ingless. 

The man stooped, and quietly lifted her. It 
was no time to speak. 

She rose and staggered to the open, where the 
breeze was cool from the sea and barely lifted her 
hair. It was not cold, but the girl shivered, clasp- 
ing her hands to her breast. For several moments 
they stood thus, and finally the man said tenderly, 

“You have loved me too much, Wafu.” 

The sound of his voice, the tender pathos of its 
slight tremor, broke the dry agony of her cruel 
suffering, and she unbended and relaxed into 
spasms of grief. Her heart was broken. And, 
tom and bleeding, it was cast away among the rem- 
nants of the past. 

“But I am coming back again,” said the man 
awkwardly trying to be cheerful, and, 

“Here,” he added, removing from his finger 
a chased-gold band, in the blind belief that some 
triviality was capable of turning the channel of her 
desires, “here is my ring, Wafu, to remember me 
by, and I promise to come back again.” 






‘'During the tense oppressive hours of the 
night she stole out to listen to the donkey 
engines of the steamer.” 






LOVERS PRICE 


6S 


For a moment she hesitated. Then the memory 
of the love he once gave her, the recollection of 
the moments of happiness she had spent with him, 
rushed over her, and she held out her hand and 
took it. As she did so, he seized both her hands 
and drew her to him suddenly, and, looking down 
into her eyes, gave vent to the vehemence of his 
momentary passion. 

‘ ‘ Oh, Alafi, ’ ’ she sobbed, ‘ ^ come back to me, for 
I shall be true to you. ’ ^ 

She stood in the doorway of the hut and saw 
him disappear down the moonlit road. Twice he 
turned, waving his hand to her, but she only 
sobbed tearlessly when she saw him being drawn 
resistlessly into oblivion. Many times during the 
tense, oppressive hours of the night she stole out 
to listen to the donkey engines of the steamer 
working very hard so that it could bear her love 
away from her the sooner; once she went over to 
about where he must have stood when they said 
their last good-by, and with tremulous longing 
stooped and kissed the cold earth, wishing fer- 
vently she was now beneath it. 

The weeks that followed were empty repeti- 
tions of loneliness and despair and heart-breaking 
memories. There were days when she would lie 
for hours with her tear-stained face resting on her 
arm, while thinking only of him. Her aged grand- 
parent would protest in a quavering voice that it 
was not meet to take it so to heart. She deserved 
what treatment she received after heeding not the 
admonitions of the older ones who knew. But 
Wafu only smiled compassionately at the old 
dame, her face wrinkled with the toil of many 




TALES IN TAPA 


years; the shriveled hands that trembled as they 
lay upon her lap. 

‘‘You are old, yet little do you know.’’ Thus 
thought Wafu. 

And at other times she sauntered into the cool, 
secluded depths of the bush, and, after wandering 
through the Indian lilies whose crimson stalk- 
raised blooms shot up out of masses of ferns which 
she trod on as a carpet, she would sit on some 
fallen trunk, idly watching the purple lizards that 
fled from her approach. She sought seclusion for 
the greater part, because of vulgar passers-by who, 
spying her on the beach, often taunted her as they 
labored past in their cumbrous, overladen carts. 
With some unseemly jest of pity, their laughter 
would die in the distance, just as Alafi had faded 
away on the horizon; — just as she hoped she would 
some day fade away and be no more. 

One day towards evening, after the red sun 
had dipped down into the sea, she meandered to 
the beach, knowing few would be there at that 
time, and arrived as a sail-boat was unloading its 
passengers, one of whom she knew. They had but 
then arrived from Samoa, five hundred miles to 
the west, and with a smile of recognition the 
woman approached. 

“I saw him,” she said in an undertone. 
“Alafi; he was walking up the Tivoli Eoad in 
Apia. Go, maiden, and prepare for his return, for 
he is on the steamer that will arrive here in the 
morning. ’ ’ 

Wafu’s eyes followed the woman as she went, 
while her senses ran riot within her. The moon 
was just rising over the rustling palms, casting a 
reflection on the sea. A glistening sail passed 


LOVERS PRICE 


65 


through the silver streak and disappeared into the 
gloom. But Wafu only saw the light; she knew 
not darkness now. 

^^He is coming! He is coming! Oh, why, why 
have I doubted? He said that he would come back 
to me, and he^s coming! He’s coming — coming — 
coming to — to me!” 

She was running, and crying as she ran. The 
cold night-wind caught her black flowing hair and 
blew it across her face. Swiftly, swiftly she ran, 
holding her heart lest it burst within her. 

“He is coming! He is coming!” she sobbed 
and laughed together. “Did I not tell you he 
would come back to me ! ’ ’ 

In an ecstacy of tumultuous joy she fell to the 
floor of the dimly-lighted hut, and sobbed in a 
paroxysm of laughter and tears. 

All the long, never-ending night she prepared 
for Alafi’s return, making an upper garment of 
black satin, treasured for some rare occasion, elab- 
orately trimming it with yards of cotton lace, and 
ere dawn had crept through the reeds of the hut 
she was dressed and ready for the eventful day. 
She asked herself a thousand childish questions. 
What would he look like? What would he wear? 
Would he be changed? What would she say to 
him? What would he say to her? 

She felt shy as the reality of their meeting drew 
nigh, and inwardly resolved not to approach him 
first. A gun report sounded. Wafu drew in her 
breath. Alafi was coming! That shot meant the 
signaling of the steamer, and it did not take long 
for the vessels to come in. So, hurriedly arrang- 
ing a flower in her hair and fastening the most 
beautiful wreath she had ever made about her 


66 


TALES IN TAPA 


shoulders, she started for the small wharf, reach- 
ing it as the steamer came slowly round the last 
turn of the reef. She stopped abruptly on behold- 
ing it and suddenly drew back among the crowd 
of natives unobserved, half hiding her face under a 
heavy tarpaulin which covered the bags of copra 
piled high for shipment. The moments dragged 
by as she waited with bated breath. She thought 
she heard the distinct throbbing of her heart, each 
individual thump sounding like a blow. A peculiar 
dull pain clutched at her throat — such a pain 
which surges up at the suppression of needful 
tears; she picked nervously at the flowers of her 
wreath, till they fell scattering at her feet, and her 
hands seemed chilled and numb. She heard the 
rattling of chains, the dropping of the anchor, the 
squeaking of bumpers, the rough voices of the 
wharf-hands making fast. 

And then the gangway was lowered and the 
passengers were beginning to descend. Alafi must 
be coming down, but she was too happily afraid 
to look. 

Presently just where she stood concealed, a 
group passed. She heard a ripple of feminine 
laughter, and inhaled a new and dainty perfume. 
Then a voice, low and sweet, said jokingly: 

‘‘Yes, indeed, I am glad to have arrived at my 
journey ^s end. And my husband is disappointed 
to have to come back, he says. My, but these Ton- 
gan women are ugly. My husband told me so, but 
I never expected he was telling me the truth. ’ ’ 

Wafu caught enough of the speech to under- 
stand the meaning, for she had learned much from 
Alafi, and was beginning to prepare to step out 



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‘‘Some fishermen found an effeminate 
upper garment on the beach.” 



LOVERS PRICE 


67 


and search for him when something happened that 
froze her to the spot. 

Bolo came np, one of the Tongan townsmen, 
and in her native tongue she heard Alafi speak — 
her own Alafi, who at last had come back, — 

‘‘Come,’’ he said, after joking a little in his 
old familiar way, “Bolo, I want to introduce you 
to my wife!” 

* # * # * 

That night, as the man and his wife sat in the 
artistic cottage a soft knock was heard on the door. 

A young Tongan child, with sad eyes, entered, 
bearing a woven tray, and upon it lay a letter and 
a small ring of chased gold. 

The man carelessly broke the seal, and read the 
simple line: 

‘ ‘ Wear it, and forget me. I have paid the price 
of love.” 

Wafu was never seen again. A short while 
after, some fishermen found a vala-skirt and an 
effeminate upper-garment, gaily trimmed with 
cotton lace, and to which was attached a small 
gold-plated pin. But if it happened to be Wafu, 
she was only a native girl! 



RAPTURE 


L et me enfold thee in my arms, dear love, 
Upon the threshold of this throbbing night. 
With naught but sable, starry skies above. 
Nothing below out rapturous delight. 

Let me but breathe the perfume of thy hair, 

Soft web of dreams, enveloping my heart. 
Nestling my cheek against thy brow so fair. 
Gently, reflectingly, ere I depart. 

Let me drink deep into thy serious eyes. 

Yon stars are feeble in comparison. 

Thy lips to mine, sweetheart, this moment dies. 
Merging thy soul and my soul into one! 



BUBBLES 


A WINDOW, two blue eyes and 
sunny hair, — 

She laughs in childish glee 
To watch her bubbles float into 
the air. 

Her sweetheart joining in the rev- 
elry. 


The little boy looks toward the win- 
dow-pane. 

Stretching forth his chubby hands 
in vain. 

“Behold, a parable!” remarked 
the man; 

“You women play 
“With hearts, and say: 

“ ‘Jiist catch mine, if you can!” 

B ut soon the boy grew weary of 
her play 

And his humiliation, so he 
turned. 

Then, spying other children, 
skipped away. 

Wise, from the brief lesson he 
had learned. 

The little girl leaned o’er the win- 
dow sill. 

To break her bowl, and all her 
pleasure spill. 


“Behold, a parable!” replied the 
maid; 

“See you again 
“The way of men, 

“And how the game is played.” 





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Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: * - - - 

m 


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